The tour bus is
coming straight at me. Just inches from the bumper of my tiny car, all I can do
is wait and watch. Several cars are snuggled up tight in my rear-view, and a three
foot rock wall is almost touching my folded mirror on the right. I am firmly stuck.
But reading about
the coastline is very different from actually driving it. It occurs to me many
of the people who photograph this road are probably in a helicopter, coming off
a cruise ship, or riding in a giant air-conditioned tour bus like the one
trying to squeeze past me now. Without a
choice, I’m going to surrender to the experience.
Pulling out my camera,
I photograph the bus driver’s skillful attempt to squeeze past me. Around him,
passengers are looking down at me, watching the wild maneuver and laughing. Their
expressions are incredulous at the seemingly impossible task their driver is
working to accomplish.
Amazingly, the bus inches past me. I can breathe again, and
I’m pretty sure the tourists in that bus are having more fun than I am right at
this moment.
Driving the
Amalfi Coast is an adventure best done on or in, something very small. The Italians know
this and scurry confidently along the stretch of winding, narrow turns on
scooters and in tiny Fiats, never once glancing out at the view, splitting
lanes where there are no lanes and passing slow pokes without any regard for
safety.
For visitors who have traveled to Italy dreaming of seeing the post
card pretty towns of Amalfi and Positano, watching the view unfold is the whole
point of being here. But this stretch of coast is treacherous for shutterbugs distracted
by snapping that once-in-a-lifetime picture.
Thousands visit the coast every
year, but those industrious enough to drive it are easily identified. The
wide-eyed and terrified crawl of newbies in awe along the sometimes path-like
drive is a frequent sight during the peak summer months.
Yet, I keep
coming back.
This isn’t my
first cruise of the coast; it’s the third in a month. Why? Because like anyone
who loves to drive, who exalts on twisty turns, I’m trying to master it.
Like anything challenging, driving this road devoid
of freaking out takes practice.
Practice watching the huge mirrors in every
blind turn, practice breathing and achieving calm when a head-on collision
seems eminent, practice sharing one lane with both on-coming traffic and a
scooter riding shot-gun.
My first practice
was on a motorcycle. A loud,
bigger-than-a-smart-car Harley Davidson. It was a first lesson in
the disregard experienced Italians have for anything that moves too slow on the narrow curves. In addition to
dodging cars, we were sandwiched on both sides by scooters and ATV's impatiently buzzing around us.
It was easier to share the road on a bike, but a conspicuous way
to get the attention of Italians who have little patience with anyone moving
under 40 miles-per-hour on this 15-mile-per-hour road. We were shoved onto the
shoulder – where there is no shoulder- innumerable times.
Despite that
first heart-stopping ride, I’m back again and again.
In the United States, I’ve both ridden and driven the entire west coast of Washington, Oregon and California a dozen times. For years I thought nothing compared to Highway 101 along the Pacific Ocean.
In the United States, I’ve both ridden and driven the entire west coast of Washington, Oregon and California a dozen times. For years I thought nothing compared to Highway 101 along the Pacific Ocean.
Then I moved to
Italy and the Amalfi Coast drive stopped me like a baby deer on a piece of
gravel road stops a sports car.
I was blown away by the beauty. Buoyed by the
challenge. Ready to master this stretch of Italy and go home someday knowing I’d driven one of the most incredible stretches of road
in Italy, and mastered some of the world’s most
dangerous curves.
The End
